Til Death Do Us Part
by elfcrazyrebel
Summary: I wrote this with my friend. It's about Hermione realizing her true love. However, he is taking over her life, causing her grades to drop. She decides to take drastic measures... short story!


'**Til Death Do Us Part**

Hermione pulled her Arithmancy book towards her and flipped open to page 492. She scribbled down a couple notes, then froze as _he_ came down the stairs. Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Harry were flanking him, chanting, "Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!" He grinned at her, that goofy, stupid, grin that made her heart jump awkwardly. He had just saved the game-winning goal and ensured a Gryffindor win.

She looked away quickly, heart pounding. Why did she have to like someone like him? Why did she have to be crazy over those freckles and wide, blue eyes? Why was she such a sucker for tousled hair? She once again turned to her notes, but the thought of his face wouldn't leave her alone.

Potions was a bore, as always. Snape was teaching them how to make a Death Speed Potion. "When used properly, the victim will die quickly with little pain. It also stems blood." Everyone scribbled this down in his or her parchment, but Hermione was too busy staring at how his hair fell into his face when he bent down to write. Suddenly she realized what she was doing a shook herself. 'What was this?' she thought. 'Ron taking notes and me daydreaming? What's the world coming to?' She tried to copy the notes from the board but she suddenly noticed how he kept brushing his quill against the side of his face in smooth, rhythmic motions. She found herself sighing involuntarily and resting her chin in her hands. 'I must look like a lovesick little loser,' she mentally slapped herself. But once again, she zoned out and gazed at him.

"Miss Granger, MISS GRANGER!" Snape's icy voice snapped her back to reality. "Usually, in this class, I can't get you to shut that obnoxious trap of yours, and now I can't get you to answer my horrifically simple question. To what do I owe this sudden change?" "Oh, I'm sorry Professor, I'll pay attention, I promise." "Keep your promises to yourself, Miss Granger. I really don't need to hear them. But please do keep your eyes off of Mr. Weasley's big head."

Hermione blushed and turned to Ron who smiled at her, his eyes twinkling merrily. She smiled back at him fondly, wishing, beyond anything else that right now he was thinking about something other than friendship when he looked at her.

It was Wednesday at lunch when she realized that he was taking over her life. When he asked to copy her homework, she practically thrust it at him. He gave her a very strange look, but true to his character, he didn't protest when free answers were on the line. While every answer on every piece of homework was absolutely correct, her quiz grades were starting to decline, mostly because she sat behind _him._ Why Flitwick, McGonagall, AND Binns all decided to sit her behind him, she didn't and probably would never know. But it happened, and Hermione started to spend less time working and more time staring at that soft curly hair. It was uncontrollable and a bit obsessive she admitted, but there was nothing wrong with a simple crush, right?

But it wasn't just a simple crush. It was head over heels, loopy, crazy love, and it was beginning to take control. She was going to have to take drastic measures.

The only problem was how to do it. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew sending him away was not an option. To stop thinking about him, she would have to get rid of him all together. And it would have to be smooth. The whole reason she was getting rid of him was so she could concentrate on her grades and her future. She couldn't very well work at the Ministry from behind the bars of Azkaban. And it had to be clean, as well. She couldn't have guilty blood incriminating her. A pistol? No...everyone would hear. A spell? Nope...such things could be tested. She would be expected and suspected. She was the only student able to perform Avada Kedavra.

Then Snape's words came back to her. "When used properly, the victim will die a quick and painless death. It also stems blood..." Perfect! A maniacal grin came over Hermione's face. She would kill him with the Death Speed Potion. Then she scowled. Oh, that ever-present question: How? Would she slip it into his drink at dinnertime? No...he had taken to sniffing his pumpkin juice like Professor Moody had taught them, always on the alert. What about mixing it with is bath soap or shampoo? But it might never get into his system. Her eyes strayed to the dagger hung on the wall. Absolutely brilliant, she congratulated herself, grinning evilly. "But I'll have to buy my own" she murmured. "One that doesn't point to me." The next Hogsmeade trip was in two weeks: that would be enough time to make the potion. Ron Weasley was as good as dead.

In potions class on Friday, they continued their lesson on the Death Speed Potion. Hermione's was perfect, as always, while Ron's and Harry's were less than worthy. In the theme of what had been going on in the past year, Ron and Harry both dipped their own beakers into Hermione's perfect potion. "Someday," she warned her two friends. "Someday you are going to need help and I'm not going to be here. What then are you going to do?" "Pray you aparate, then sit back and let you do the work," Ron slung an arm around her shoulder. She shivered at his touch. As they were going out, Hermione reached down and scooped up some potion in another beaker and stowed it under her robes. Tonight, it would be done.

When Hermione sat down at the dinner table, her usual ridicule began. "So Hermione, when's the wedding?" "Hey Mrs. Weasley!" "Done staring at Ron yet Hermione?" "Hey guys, c'mon," Ron complained. "Leave her alone." "Ooh look, Mione, your husband's defending you!" "I'm serious." Ron said. "Hermione and I are just friends, right?" He wove his arm into her arm. "Right," Hermione choked. "Just friends, of course." "And never more than that," Ron said brightly. Harry was struggling to contain his laughter. "You should see your face," he snorted at Hermione. "You look like something crawled up your ass and died." "Must have been that rat that McGonagall lost last week!" The whole table roared in laughter. 'Just friends?' Hermione thought. 'You'll soon see Ron.'

"Hey Ron!" Harry called in the common room that night. "Party in the Room of Requirement! Coming?" Ron shook his head. "Test tomorrow. You studied during History of Magic, but I was in the infirmary. I'll catch you later." "All right, I suppose. You, Hermione?" Hermione shook her head, too. "Well goodnight, Hermione," Ron said. "I'll be up in my dormitory if you need me. See you in the morning." The second he disappeared into the boys dormitory, Hermione ran for her flask and dagger. She pulled her gloves on and hurried up the stairs. "Oh, hey, Hermione." He said when she appeared at the top of the stairs. "What's up?" Hermione crossed the room and sat on Ron's bed. He was bent over on his desk, poring over a Transformation textbook. "Interesting speech at dinner tonight," she said with a touch of anger in her voice. "What do you mean?" Ron inquired, eyes still pasted to his book.

"About us just being friends," Hermione said, getting up and turning away, silently dipping the long, shiny dagger into the flask of Death Speed Potion. "Well, we are, aren't we?" Ron finally got up and started towards her. She felt tears starting to prick the edge of her eyes. "We're not enemies, are we?" Ron's voice sounded a tad worried. "No, of course not." Hermione turned holding the dagger behind her back. "But why can't we be more than that?"

Ron was frozen with his mouth open, looking like he wanted to respond, but not being really capable of it. She didn't wait for an answer, just stepped up to him and pressed her lips to his. It was everything she'd ever wanted: sweet, romantic, passionate, and for a second she almost threw the dagger away and dumped the whole plan. But then that nasty little mocking voice said, "He'll always look at you as just a friend, do it now!"

She took the dagger and after a moment's hesitation, plunged it into his stomach. He immediately fell away, breaking the kiss. Hermione almost cried out, not ever wanting it to end. He looked down at the dagger in his stomach, and then looked up at Hermione with more hurt and pain than Hermione had ever seen. "It doesn't hurt, does it?" she whispered. Ron shook his head, but then murmured, "W-why?"

Hermione knelt by him and took his hand. She could almost see as the poison traveled through his veins. His wide blue eyes had tears in the corners of them, and his face was now a deathly white. Hermione leaned down and kissed him again. There was a distinctly metallic taste in his mouth, and Hermione touched her lips to find blood on her fingertips. "Ron," she whispered. "I love you." A smile came over Ron's now peaceful face. Hermione pulled his head into her lap and stroked his head. Slowly he grew stiff in her arms. A choked sob escaped her throat. No more would she see him again, no more would she laugh at his jokes, not more would she see his smile. "That's what comes of death," the nagging voice was back. "It's your fault." Hermione wrapped Ron's cold fingers around the dagger, framing only himself, then flung herself down the stairs and over to the desk to continue her arithmacy notes.

Three hours later Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville came bursting through the portrait. "Hey Hermione!" Harry said, red patches adorning his cheeks, his hands clutching candy and a butterbeer. "Where's Ron?" "Upstairs," Hermione said absentmindedly. "He might be asleep. I haven't heard anything up there in hours." The four boys clamored up the stairs and Hermione heard Seamus yell, "Hey Ron guess-," then dead silence. Suddenly Neville's scream pierced the air. Hermione hurried up the stairs to find them gather around the door. She gasped, even though she knew what she'd find, the sight still horrified her. "I'm going to get McGonagall" Dean said quietly, fleeing. Seamus and Neville were staring at Ron with pain etched in their faces, but Harry's face held anger- and he was looking at Hermione.

McGonagall removed Ron's body herself from the boy's dormitory. Before suspending the corpse in midair with her wand, she touched the dagger with two fingers and licked them. "Death Speed Potion," she said, her mouth set in a hard, thin line. "Well, it looks like we've got a suicide on out hands. Finnigan, Thomas, Longbottom, help me carry him downstairs. You two," she pointed to Harry and Hermione, "Maybe it would be best if you slept in Professor Dumbledore's office tonight. Many students will be wondering what happened. I know you might want to avoid that as best you can. The password is 'Drooble's Best Blowing Gum'. Have a good night. And Potter, Granger... I'm sorry for your loss."

Harry jerked his head in what might have been a nod, then took off through the portrait. Hermione had to run to keep up with him. Their walk to Dumbledore's office was quick but still painful. The portraits continually asked them, "What's going on?" and "Why is everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off?" and the ever popular, "Who's on that stretcher?" Every so often, Harry would answer them, but he mostly just threw dirty looks at Hermione. Professor Dumbledore welcomed them in with sad eyes and open arms, and magicked two beds for them to sleep in. Harry, without saying a word, crawled into his bed with his clothes on and fell fast asleep. Hermione tried to follow suit, but whenever she tried to close her eyes, images fell upon her like hailstones. Ron's huge eyes after seeing what she had done; Harry's angry expression obviously meant for her; and Snape's face dangling in front of hers, whispering, "No pain, no pain, no pain..." She hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, but somehow she'd hurt everybody anyway.

Breakfast that morning was pure silence. The other three houses stared at the Gryffindor table with long, gloomy faces. Rumors circulated the school twelve times over: stories about how Gryffindor had ganged up on Ron and murdered him, tales about how Ron had tried to kill Harry, then Harry had beat him to the punch, even on particularly entertaining legend about how Sirius Black had gone on another mass murdering spree and had killed not only Ron but half the Gryffindor House as well. Harry didn't say a word all day. He was like a clam, shut up and expressionless, until suddenly he broke down sobbing in Potions. Even Snape, it seemed, had been touched by the loss of Ron Weasley (especially because he was the one responsible for the teaching of the Death Speed Potion), so he was as understanding as he ever would be and excused Harry to the infirmary. Just as Hermione suspected, Snape discontinued the lesson on Death Speed, with promises it wouldn't be on the exam. Seamus and Dean walked around school in a daze, and Neville had a habit of suddenly bawling in class. The whole school was turned upside down by the death of Ron Weasley.

At lunch on the day after the funeral, Harry wouldn't take his eyes off of Hermione. While the food was just beginning to disappear, he whispered, "So why'd you do it, Hermione?" She froze. "W-what?" she asked, a bit panicked. Harry stood up so fast that his chair tumbled out behind him. "Why'd you kill him? Just tell me, Hermione, I need to know." The whole Hall was suddenly filled with thick silence. Hermione got up slowly and backed away, as if afraid everyone would jump out and bite her, then turned and started to run. "Come back here and answer my question!" Harry said furiously. "Why'd you do it? How _could_ you? How could you kill my best friend? He loved you, after all!" Hermione stopped short. "What?" she whispered. "That's right," Harry yelled. "He was in love with you! You were everything to him! How could you do this? How could you kill him? I hate you! I'll _kill _you!" Seamus, Dean, and Neville grabbed his arms to hold him back. He struggled against their bonds. "Mate," Neville said weakly. "Ron committed suicide. Even McGonagall said so." "Why would Ron do that?" Harry howled. "He was so happy! Why would he take his own life? Hermione did it! She killed him! Let me go, I'll kill her! I'll kill her!" "Mr. Potter, sit down," Dumbledore said sternly. "I'm sorry," Harry dropped to the ground, the fight gone out of him, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry, Professor. I'm... I just... I'm sorry." Everyone was staring at Hermione with anger and fright on their faces. "That's an amazing accusation to make, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, the life gone from his eyes. "Have you any proof that you can offer us convicting Miss Granger of this horrendous crime?" "What were you doing in the common room, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly. "Doing homework," she responded, a quaver in her voice. "Didn't you hear anything from upstairs?" Dumbledore asked. She shook her head quickly. "I didn't do it," she said, then turned and fled.

She ran down the hallway, hearing the door slam shut down behind her. Her speed increased and as she flew past the portraits, she could hear them muttering, "Did you hear about that poor boy in Gryffindor?" "Committed suicide, I'm told!" "I, for one, think he was murdered..." And as she sprinted down the hallway, Dean and Seamus suddenly appeared in the hallway, staring wide-eyed at the floor. She ran past them, past Neville stammering unintelligible words, past Ginny sitting on the floor, her head in her arms, past Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who were holding tightly to each other, past all the teachers dabbing their eyes, past Harry sobbing, "Why, Hermione? Why'd you kill my best friend?" She looked behind her, and they were chasing her through the hallway, looks of fury on her faces. She whipped around a corner and suddenly Snape was in her path. She fell over and he leaned down and growled, "Extremely effective potion." She closed her eyes and screamed, slicing the air and piercing the silence. When she opened her eyes, the portraits were all snoring. There was no one there. The hallway was empty.

She was alone.

**Fin**


End file.
